


stagger

by santanico



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hotel Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny is something of a safe haven, somewhere for Dean to rest when things get too out of hand. Dean only smokes with Benny - and Benny is always prepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stagger

The words between Sam and Dean are hot and spark-fueled; anger and resentment riding on both of their tongues, snarls wrestling from one side to the other until Dean slams his glass on the table. It doesn’t shatter but the sound resonates in the room and Dean stands slowly, resting his sweaty palms on his jeans and trying to ignore how his knees are shaky.

Before Purgatory, they would bump into each other, there would be rough and grit and things to work out. Now they yell – now their teeth gnash and they walk out on each other.

The solemn silence allows Dean some initiative. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “but I can’t be here.”

Sam doesn’t answer, but his eyes linger on Dean’s, narrowing with suspicion that makes Dean’s skin twitch before he turns around, fingers running through his own hair. “I’ll call you.”

Whether or not Sam nods, Dean isn’t sure.

Benny answers on the third ring, Dean walking guiltily down the street. He doesn’t know whether to take the Impala or not; he starts to pace as he gets close to a gas station, somehow nervous about who he might meet or what he might see. He should be used to this by now, after spending a year serving constantly in a war that never really seemed like it was going to end.

Benny’s voice is low and guttural. “Hey there.” Smooth, calming Dean’s nerves. “Something wrong?”

Dean cringes, bowing in on himself and finding a place to rest against the wall of a shoddy building down the street from the hotel Sam is probably still inside.

“…No.”

“You with your brother…?” Benny’s voice is strained but Dean smiles.

“No.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Dean hesitates.

“Neutral. Good.”

Benny is silent for a long moment as if he’s contemplating what Dean might mean. “Alright then. What d’you need?”

At this point in his life, Dean has run out of people to trust. People let him down and people parade in fake masks that make him uncomfortable and always lead to the unveiling of a very manipulative person. Benny isn’t a person in the strictest sense, and it took Dean a long while to grasp that although Benny’s life was shaped by vampire urges, he was still someone, and Dean could trust him.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about that, brother. Where are you?”

Dean looks down the street, the strobe lights flashing at a cheap bar. Maybe he’ll wait in there.

“Nowhere good.”

Benny chuckles and Dean’s shoulders relax as he lets out a long sigh.

“Tell me an address and I’ll meet you there.”

And of course, Dean does. He walks down the street and rattles off the bar’s address and tells him the city, street, state – Nebraska. Benny is quiet again for a moment, maybe considering, then says, “I’ll be there no later than an hour. Hold up for me, alright?”

Dean swallows. “Yeah.”

Benny arrives while Dean’s downing his third shot of whiskey. It still burns his throat but he can feel himself getting weary, the buzz not affecting him quite as well as it used to. His headache is worse and the lights are still flashing, loud music throbbing through his skull. Still, it’s better than dirt and constant fear.

A hand on his shoulder and breath in his ear. “Hey there,” Benny murmurs, close enough that Dean can hear him over the pulsating music. Something curls inside Dean as he looks at Benny again, still unshaven, lips rough and chapped but eyes smooth and smirk pleased. “Looks like someone’s been drinking. Another shot of whiskey,” Benny calls to the bartender, a young guy with dark brown eyes and hair. He gets a fresh glass and fills it and Benny takes it with a gracious “Thank you,” in that Southern drawl, downing it.

“Helps with the cravings,” Benny says to Dean, again close to his ear. Dean’s head is fuzzy but despite that he has a clear picture of what he wants. Benny seems to read him well. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah.” Benny can hear him no problem.

Benny’s parked his car in the street. It’s a chunky old car from the 70’s that Dean doesn’t recognize in his state and doesn’t want to think about. The Chevy is still in the lot and Dean would almost consider walking back just to get it if he could stand up more easily. He stumbles into the car with a little help from Benny’s arm around his waist and Benny has to close the door for him.

“Where were you?” Dean mumbles as Benny starts the car up. “You got here fast.”

“I’m never too far.”

Dean takes that into consideration.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Benny casts him a long, sideways glance. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dean grits, though his head is pounding and he’s got a nervous twitch, shivers running up his spine. He almost feels feverish but he knows he’s not sick, that it’s just adrenaline fucking with his system. “You’ve fucked me before. You can do it again.”

Benny hums quietly and licks his lips, shifting the car into drive and pulling out into the road. “You got somewhere specific in mind?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Dean sees Benny smile as he closes his eyes and leans back.

When Dean wakes up they’re not in the same city anymore, somewhere on the outskirts of town, an old hotel that looks like it’s probably run by a poor family and visited by drug dealers and hookers.

Dean smiles as he thinks about the fact that it’s Benny’s choice – how ridiculous it is – and rubs his forehead. The headache has faded into a dull throb, a distant reminder of the fight with Sam and the drinking. Benny’s already left the car and is paying for the room as they speak and Dean watches him through the faux-glass door, blinking slowly as Benny smiles charmingly to the tired looking woman at the desk. She hands him a card-key and points to the stairs and Benny smiles again, tips his hat and nods. 

When he gestures through the door, Dean follows willingly. He’s starting to feel the buzz in his body again, remembers the last time they got to hook up, though it’d been quick and needy and Benny had ended up fucking him ruthlessly against the wall. It was a good memory but it hadn’t been ideal.

They walk up the stairs together, Benny’s boots thudding heavily. For whatever reason, he isn’t particularly good at being quiet – Dean smiles and drags himself up as well, to the second floor (there’s only two floors to begin with), trailing along as Benny leads him down the hall. It’s pleasant to be led, something that feels foreign but familiar.

“Get on the bed,” Benny says as soon as they both get in the room and the door closes. He licks his lips and watches as Dean stumbles to the bed in the middle of the room. He can hear whoever’s next door, their TV working faintly in the background, but he doesn’t pay much attention to what it is. Dean lies down on the bed with his back against the rigid sheets, pulls off his shoes and then sits up and watches Benny pull off his jacket and kicks off his boots through half-lidded eyes. When Benny begins to unbutton his shirt Dean sits up on his elbows and stares.

Just stares.

“Sight for sore eyes…?” Benny asks, his grin half-sly and lazy. “How you feelin’?”

Dean swallows. “Good,” he manages, and although he appreciates the concern, he also kind of wishes that Benny would just get on with it.

Benny starts by straddling Dean, pushing him down onto the bed by his shoulders. It’s comforting to have someone else take the reigns and his eyes flutter shut for a moment before Benny’s mouth seals over his, and, slack-jawed and willing, Dean kisses him back. The heat travels from his lips and tongue through his spine and then to the tips of his fingers, and he manages to grip Benny’s shirt before fumbling to undo the rest of the buttons. His hands are clumsy but Benny smiles against his mouth anyway and moves his own hands to Dean’s, clasping his palms and pressing them into the sheets.

“Roll over,” Benny murmurs against Dean’s lips, and, when given some room, Dean goes obediently. Benny still hovers over his back and runs his hands down Dean’s sides. “You’re lookin’ pretty tonight, Dean.” His mouth presses against Dean’s throat and he hums, human teeth scraping against ultra-sensitive skin. Dean hisses a breath through his teeth and arches his back just as Benny’s fingers find a grip in his hair. Benny’s other hand begins to unbutton his jeans and together they manage to pull them down off of Dean’s hips, then his boxers too – Dean can feel the outline of Benny’s cock against his ass and he waits, taking deep breaths and willing himself not to touch his cock.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Benny whispers, his hot breath tracing the top of Dean’s spine. He starts to kiss down Dean’s back, teasing him with rough lips and whiskers, the flicker of tongue every other touch. Dean keens at the touch, needs more of it, but doesn’t know how to voice it. “Quiet…” Benny’s voice trails off as he opens his mouth above Dean’s ass.

Dean keeps his mouth shut, biting his tongue to hold the sounds inside. One of Benny’s hands slides up his stomach to grip his chest and pull Dean close, and Dean shifts forward to give Benny room to tug his belt off and unbutton his jeans. Dean wants to do something, wants to move, wants to feel something – but there’s no option or opportunity, just his face hovering above the pillow and his elbows pressed into the rumpled sheets. 

But Dean also knows that it is never that easy – his body shudders and almost collapses as Benny lets him go, even though the movement and then the disappearance is gentle, Benny trying not to be abrupt. Dean lets out a heavy breath and clenches his fist, trying to relax. He hears Benny’s belt and jeans drop to the floor.

“You didn’t happen to bring a condom and lube, did you…?” Benny trails off but Dean knows him so well at this point that he just scowls and sighs.

“Don’t make bad jokes,” he growls, head still ducked between his arms. His cock is still hard and his thighs are shaky, and he’s running out of patience.

Benny chuckles. “You don’t fall for ‘em very easily so I figure I can get away with it.”

Dean always gets a little swoop in his stomach when he realizes Benny’s come prepared, that Benny is almost always the dependable one when it comes to them – that he always keeps a spare condom and lube in a duffel bag or in his pocket; always ready for Dean’s wants, needs, desperate tugs.

“Stay there and stay still.”

Dean closes his eyes and listens to the crinkle of the condom wrapper, the snap of a cap of lube. He waits, and he pays attention, tries not to over anticipate the cold, slick touch. But Benny’s fingers still surprise him, still make his body shiver, like everything in the room seems to stop.

Benny slides a finger inside of Dean easily; it’s not quite a burn, a pleasant and familiar touch but it’s been too long since Benny’s gotten to touch him like this, since Dean’s felt like he’s safe surrounded by someone else’s grip. And Benny is slow but he has a pace, knows how Dean likes it like it’s a magic click of a lock. Two fingers, slick with lube, twisting and hooking up in Dean’s body. Dean can’t help it, can’t help that his hips rock backwards, that he wants more. Benny doesn’t deny him that touch, encourages it by wrapping his other fist, also wet his lube, around Dean’s cock.

“Come on,” Dean grunts, hates that he sounds like he’s begging but can’t think of another way to get his message across. Benny is different because Benny appeases him, always seem to be looking for ways to making Dean happy, to make things work. Benny does it, he moves quick, pulling his fingers from Dean’s body and ripping the condom wrapper open with his teeth – at least, that’s what Dean imagines when he hears the sound, especially with one of Benny’s hands still holding him up at the hip. 

The tip of Benny’s cock nudges in carefully but with ease, and Dean gasps and bites the pillow under his head at the stretching sensation. Benny’s spare fingers find his hair again and he tugs Dean backwards, pulling him close – Benny is sinking inside of Dean, every inch slow and full of torment but amazing and hot at the same time. Dean’s mouth is dry now, lips parted in a silent moan struggling to escape his throat as his fingers dig into the loosening sheets. 

Benny is inside of him, deep now, and it’s tranquil for a moment, his hand running through Dean’s hair and petting his sweat slick forehead and neck affectionately. Dean wants to fall down and be taken in the most ridiculous way, wants Benny to wreck him wordlessly and tear him apart. Perhaps it’s both good and bad that Dean knows that Benny won’t – never has and never will. There’s comfort in security, but it leaves something dark and unattainable imprinted on Dean’s heart.

Still, Benny knows how to fuck, and his hips rock out a rhythm that keeps Dean’s quivering voice coming. It’s back and forth, rolling motion, Benny’s cock sliding hot inside, never pausing. The movement of his fist around Dean’s cock certainly makes the experience even more impossible, and Dean never know how to describe the feeling that Benny gives him when they fuck, only knows that it’s kind of like falling apart but better, the built up tension being fucked out of his muscles and bones in a way no therapy could manage.

Benny pauses, whispers nothing inaudible into Dean’s skin, something that might even be a prayer, and then fucks harder; swifter. Dean is gasping now, panting heavily and desperately as the hand on his cock slides faster, thumb over slit, Benny’s hips thrusting his cock inside Dean at an angle close to perfect that shoots sparks through Dean’s back, makes the inside of his eyelids white.

Dean comes first without expecting it, doesn’t have time to warn as it builds suddenly and uncoils within him, hard and fast strokes from Benny’s hand combined with the strength of Benny’s cock overpowering Dean’s senses. Dean lets himself make noises, moans and hisses and gasps as everything goes into overdrive, Benny still relentless and unyielding. Dean doesn’t want it to stop, focuses on how his ass clenches around Benny’s cock and how Benny still doesn’t overpower Dean, just holds the nape of his neck and keeps going.

And then it stops, with silence and a shudder and a low huff of breath. Sometimes Dean wants to do it without a condom but Benny never leaves that up for much discussion – Dean figures it’s not that big of a deal anyway, and he has quite the imagination. The way Benny stills inside of him sends another jolt of blood through Dean’s body, but nothing has the energy to twitch.

Benny pulls out and rolls over, and the moment’s gone as he stumbles out of bed to pull off the condom and throw it in the trash. Dean lets himself fall face first into the bed, and he’s amazed at how soft it feels.

Benny returns seconds later and flops down on the bed next to Dean, not quite touching him. Dean turns over so that he’s close to Benny’s side, can feel the heat radiating off of him – how strange that something so dead could be so warm. Dean wants to kiss Benny’s body, his chest and all its straggly hairs, his jaw and the close shaven beard there, his throat. He refrains though, waiting for Benny to make a move.

And make a move he does, tugging Dean inward with an arm around his shoulder. Dean notices the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the bedside table and watches as Benny opens the box and takes out a fresh cigarette.

“Sit up,” he says, and Dean does so lazily, blinking. 

Benny touches Dean’s chin and then brushes his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. Dean opens his mouth automatically and Benny puts the cigarette between his lips. There’s no need for speaking, as Dean closes around the cigarette; Benny smiles at him loosely.

Benny lights the flame and Dean tries to keep still as Benny positions the lighter underneath the end of the cigarette. Then he inhales, keeps the cigarette between his lips, and waits.

Benny takes the cigarette out of Dean’s mouth, like he expected, and then takes a drag.

“Tastes almost as good as you.”


End file.
